


One on One

by RetroactiveCon



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Making Out, Sex in The DEO | Department of Extra-Normal Operations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28243944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: In the days after his exposure to the Medusa virus, Mon-El submits to a barrage of tests to determine if his illness affected his strength, speed, or superhuman reflexes. Kara, who took over mentoring Mon-El after his botched escape from the DEO, turns supervision of these tests over to Winn.There's only one problem: the intervening weeks have done nothing to diminish Winn’s lust for their resident Daxamite.
Relationships: Mon-El/Winn Schott Jr.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	One on One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Warren_Pace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warren_Pace/gifts).



> Well, Warren_Pace, you've asked for the elusive MonWinn - here it is, at long last!

In the days after his exposure to the Medusa virus, Mon-El submits to a barrage of tests to determine if his illness affected his strength, speed, or superhuman reflexes. Kara, who took over mentoring Mon-El after his botched escape from the DEO, turns supervision of these tests over to Winn. 

“Uh.” It turns out that the intervening weeks have done nothing to diminish Winn’s lust for their resident Daxamite. He has to physically shake himself to regain his focus after a punch from Mon-El crumples steel. “It, uh, looks like your strength has survived intact. I’m just gonna, uh. Catch or dodge as many of these as you can.”

Winn long ago modified a clay pigeon shooter from the practice range to test Kara’s reflexes. He uses it now on Mon-El. Like Kara, Mon-El moves faster than a human; combined with his super strength, he can catch projectiles that would shatter human bone. He isn’t as fast as the Flash (Winn pinches himself. He should be trying not to think of hot guys, not thinking of more of them) but he’s formidable. After five minutes, Mon-El deposits a pile of projectiles at Winn’s feet, as happy as a puppy bringing its master a stick. 

“Did you get hit?” By Winn’s calculations, using averages taken from Kara’s numerous practice sessions and accounting for Mon-El’s slightly reduced speed, he should have been hit no more than six times. 

“Three times.” Mon-El unbuttons his shirt and proudly displays bruises on his chest, abdomen, and upper arm. Winn’s brain short-circuits. He can’t think beyond the temptation to kiss the bruise blooming on Mon-El’s right pectoral, to trail his lips down and drop to his knees and…

“Whoa-okay, nope, just—nope.” Winn shakes his head vigorously and turns away. He needs to leave before he does something stupid. And Mon-El’s Daxamite inability to comprehend personal space (what the hell was his planet like, Winn wants to know) is not helping matters, because Winn can feel his presence even if he can’t see him. “Time and place, buddy, we talked about this. You can’t just go taking your clothes off in front of just _anybody.”_

“I’m not,” Mon-El says. And he’s not clueless or innocent, but it can be easy to forget that when he gets that confused, forthright tone as though something should be easy but Winn is complicating it. “You’re not just ‘anybody,’ Winn.”

What exactly is Winn supposed to say to that? Nothing. He’s going to pretend Mon-El didn’t say anything. “Right, okay, well, the good news is that you’re fine. Uh, the virus doesn’t seem to have had a lasting effect on your abilities, so, uh, tests are over. I’m gonna just go input this data—these data, um—somewhere nice and quiet…” 

“Winn.” He’s never heard Mon-El sound like this before: low-voiced, sharp, effortlessly commanding. It’s like a punch to the gut. “Turn around.”

Winn obeys without hesitation. Absently, he notes that Mon-El has discarded his shirt. He’s also much closer than Winn remembers. Winn isn’t aware of retreating until cool steel braces his back. His breath leaves him in a stuttered rush. “O-okay. You’re, um, you’re really…by Earth standards, this is kinda too close, unless…”

Mon-El cups a hand against Winn’s cheek and his breathless protests die away. He’s not sure whether to keep his eyes open or to let them fall closed in anticipation. His body must decide without his brain’s consent, because by the time Mon-El’s lips touch his, his eyes have fallen closed. 

It’s a far gentler kiss than Winn would have expected from the entitled Daxamite. He still finds himself dizzy and off-balance, clutching helplessly at Mon-El’s warm shoulders to steady himself. Mon-El smiles against his lips. 

“Unless?” 

Winn stares blankly. Kissing. He was just kissed. And now Mon-El is talking at him and…oh yeah. “Unless you’re gonna kiss someone. Me. You just kissed me.”

Mon-El grins. “Good to know some things are universal.” 

“Uh, well, funny thing about kissing, there are species who don’t even have lips, and…okay we’re kissing again.” Winn’s rambling ends with another press of Mon-El’s lips. It’s still a gentle kiss, but there’s some heat to it, thanks in no small part to the way Mon-El’s hand slips to the nape of Winn’s neck and squeezes. His mouth falls open around a breathy moan, and Mon-El takes it as permission to deepen the kiss. 

“Ohfuck,” Winn mumbles when they part. Mon-El trails kisses along his jaw, then gives his earlobe a playful bite. “Am I that obvious?”

Mon-El laughs, the vibrations tickling Winn’s neck. “Kara told me.” 

The hand at the nape of his neck squeezes again, just enough to make Winn tip his head back and expose more of his throat. “Fuck, did she write you a list?” He and Kara have never gone further than one impulsive kiss, but Winn rambles a lot, and he gets the sense that half the time, Kara is living vicariously through his relationship mishaps. She probably does have enough information to write a list, although why she would help Mon-El seduce him is beyond him. 

Mon-El smirks before worrying at Winn’s neck with his teeth. “We may have traded secrets—she told me how best to seduce you in return for some wisdom about wooing a woman.”

Winn is going to have to follow up on that tidbit later, when he can think beyond the wet heat of Mon-El’s mouth and the fact that Mon-El is holding him up with one hand braced under his thigh. Alternatively, he decides, now would be an excellent time to stop thinking and just give himself over into Mon-El’s capable ( _exceedingly strong_ ) hands. 

Later, as they’re catching their breath, Winn asks, “Why did you ask how to, y’know…”

Mon-El smirks. He’s no less smug after sex, although Winn supposes he’s more than earned the right. (After all, he has yet to regain most of his brain function.) “I’m unfamiliar with Earth customs, Winn, not unobservant. Also you kissed me at the bar.”

Winn doesn’t remember that, which is probably for the best. “Uh, sorry about that.”

Mon-El laughs. “You don’t have to apologize.” Winn would almost certainly have apologized for apologizing if Mon-El didn’t silence him with another kiss.


End file.
